“Okay. Thanks.” He picked up the remote from the end table, pointed it at the television, and flicked through channels. Each click felt hollow compared to the memory of her close warmth. He paused on a cooking show, then switched off the screen. He didn’t want distractions, only her.
A fragrant breeze of marinara and chicken drifted his way. Skylar reappeared in the doorway, tongs in hand and smiled. Rawley got to his feet when she entered the room.
“Dinner is ready.”
He nodded, motioning for her to lead the way. The kitchen table was set with mismatched plates and flickering candles that cast soft halos across the wood grain. He waited for her to sit, then pulled out a chair and sat.
She filled his glass with cool water, condensation beading on the sides, then used the spatula to place a golden slice of chicken onto his plate. The meat was crisp at the edges and tender inside. They ate slowly, trading stories about childhood summers, their favorite bands, and the book she was writing. Between bites, he watched the way the candlelight played over her features.
When the last of the chicken was gone, he rose to clear the dishes. Together they loaded plates and utensils into the dishwasher, their hands brushing now and then, sending little shocks through him. With the cleanup done, they moved back into the living room, the air carrying a hint of lemon-scented dish soap.
Skylar sat, smoothing the fabric of her sweatpants. He sank in next to her, lifted her hand, and traced gentle circles with his thumb. Her breath hitched; he met her gaze again, and in that quiet moment the world seemed to hold its breath. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She responded with a soft moan, and he drew her closer across his lap, deepening the kiss.
When their lips parted, he whispered against her mouth, “You taste like chicken.”
She laughed. “Doesn’t everything?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, it’s a good thing you taste like chicken too.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Dinner was great.”
“Thank you. Now, kiss me again.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He captured her lips once more, savoring her subtle sweetness.
She pressed against his chest, and he reluctantly pulled back. She rose, offering him her hand. He took it, rising as well, and she began to lead him toward her bedroom.
He stopped her with a gentle tug. She turned, lantern light pooling around her.
“Rawley?”
He searched her eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
Her brow lifted in that familiar, confident way of hers. “Aren’t you?”
“Of course,” he said softly, “but I don’t want to rush you.”
She smiled, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Excuse me, butI’mthe one leadingyouto the bedroom.”
“Oh, right.” He grinned. “Lead on.”
And with that, she slipped her hand through his, guiding him onward.
Rawley’s control didn’t just snap, it shattered into a million pieces. His hands shot to her waist, gripping her like a starving man clawing at his last meal. He crushed her against him so hard; he could feel her nipples puckering even through the fabric of her T-shirt. She gasped, a desperate, breathy sound that only fueled his hunger. His cock, already rock-hard and throbbing, pressed against her like it was trying to break through his damn jeans.
His mouth crashed down on hers with the force of a hurricane, claiming her lips with desperation. His tongue plunged past her lips, exploring every inch of her mouth like he owned it. She whimpered into his mouth, her hands clawing at his back like she wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there.
Without breaking the kiss, Rawley slid his hands down and grabbed her ass, lifting her off the floor like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, grinding against his erection with a ferocity that made him groan into her mouth.
He placed her down gently onto the bed. She barely had time to catch her breath before he was on her again, his body pinning her down, his cock grinding against her through their clothes.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her swollen lips. “Are you sure?” he asked again.
“Yes, I’m positive. Please,” she whispered, but he heard her.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue tangling with hers.
